


Soul of a Crestfallen Knight

by Coconut_of_Doom



Series: The Souls [4]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls III
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Dark, Fantasy, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Dark Souls (Video Game), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24868552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coconut_of_Doom/pseuds/Coconut_of_Doom
Summary: The last moments of a Crestfallen Knight.
Series: The Souls [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783663
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	Soul of a Crestfallen Knight

He exhaled slowly, watching the area before him.

He clenched his gauntleted hands tight, and shuffled in place as he surveyed the path forward.

For before him stood the very definition of death itself.

An open bridge, bodies bloodily strewn all over.

Hollowed warriors shambling to and fro, shuffling among the bodies and the guts.

Beyond the bridge was a tower.

Behind him was the very same.

He had come so far.

But he has not found his death.

Fighting from the gates of Lothric straight to the ramparts above, he stood toe to toe with fearsome hollows all along the way.

Gigantic hollows wielding great battle axes.

Hollowed knights who once stood to guard the very streets they now haunt.

Soldiers who once served King Oceiros, great men and women all.

Reduced to nothing but empty shells.

In a way, he was much like them.

He had lost his way.

He had lost his duty.

He had lost his mission.

He had lost his purpose.

For a long time he sat alone at the Shrine, sad and confused.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he grew to forget much.

First went his oldest memories.

The face of his mother, for example.

His childhood home.

The very kingdom he once served.

Now his recent ones began to fade as well.

The reason he came to Lothric.

The purpose he once had.

His very own name.

He was hollowing.

Plain and simple.

But he didn't want to sit there and let it happen.

If he was to die and hollow, he would not spend his final days wallowing in a crestfallen slumber.

Crestfallen, still he was.

But he sought a braver end than what was coming for him.

A way out through battle.

As was fit for a knight of his station.

He didn't fear it.

He knew he would hollow ultimately, but he took solace in the fact he would die a warrior.

For a knight was brave, even in the face of mortal danger.

The hollows begun to notice his presence, and they growled in his direction.

Some began shambling towards him, raising their weapons in preparation for an attack.

The knight looked down at himself, and glanced at the blood painting his plated armor.

The blood of foes who had failed to end his existence.

He sighed, and steeled himself for the battle to come.

His hand trailed slowly to the hilt of his sword.

His visor fell over his face, and he narrowed his eyes on the incoming danger.

He knew he couldn't escape his death.

But this way, at least, his honor would remain intact.

He drew the sword, the sharp blade chewing at the scabbard on its swift exit.

And he advanced on the approaching enemies.

Ready for battle.

Ready to die.

He was a Crestfallen Knight, simply wanting an honorable end to his now meaningless, undead existence.


End file.
